


69

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale’s new body is a shorty, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporation (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sex Toys, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23698336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aziraphale took his hand. “I may not have a jaw that can unhinge itself,” he said primly, “but I’m more than capable of sucking your dick.”Or, it’s hard to 69 when you’re short.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	69

“Sir.”

A finger tapped politely at Crowley’s shoulder.

“Sir, you can’t do that here.”

Crowley’s fingers, white at the knuckles and completely numb, did not loosen their grip on the white lapels of a blood stained waistcoat.

He blinked at the man blearily.

A police officer.

Two squad cars and an ambulance were parked on the street. One officer was holding a yellow tap. 

“You’re going to have to let go, sir.”

One of the paramedics gazed at him impatiently. A police officer tapped his foot.

Crowley scowled, and dug his fingers into the soft material. It was too loud. Sirens were still howling a couple blocks over, the prolix whispers of strangers hanging out of their windows to watch the scene unfold had floated down to fill the street. A street musician had yet to stop playing.

Above them all, the sky had turned a horrible grey. 

Crowley didn’t bother responding to them (he didn’t like police officers), and instead turned to a paramedic. 

“I’ll deal with it.”

The woman opened her mouth, eyebrows raised. 

Crowley waved her off, and clicked his fingers. One by one, they got back into their vehicles. Windows above slammed shut, and the street musician began to strum the belated melody of ‘Pale Blue Eyes.’

Aziraphale, no matter how hard he tried, had not accepted the breath of life he tried to instill. It was different with corporations, Crowley knew, but he was a right side off having a complete meltdown. Cognitive thoughts weren’t really his thing. 

A man slid by, taking care to inch around the angel’s empty body. He threw Crowley a sympathetic look. “He’s in a better place now, mate.”

A fat droplet of water landed on his cheek.

He absolutely was not.

* * *

A day later, Crowley’s grief had morphed into fury.

He stood in a church, an old one that Aziraphale was fairly fond of. The windows were mosaic, and the walls had begun to flake with age. There wasn’t much room in the little church, but it was cozy.

Crowley shifted on his scooter, taking care to not let his feet fall off the thin stretch of metal. 

He looked up, and prayed.

If praying was demanding, that is. 

_“Hi.”_

He imagined a lovely oasis of white. The Almighty probably didn’t have a face. Just some blob of colour. 

_“Give him back.”_

Crowley screwed his eyes shut, and grasped at the handle bars until they cracked under the pressure. “Please.”

The Almighty did not respond. 

* * *

**About Three Days Later.  
  
**

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s presence long before he actually saw him. 

His tea was cold, bitter on his tongue and wafting the smell of honey through the bookshop. Crowley had spent the last six hours daring any of the books to ask. He could feel their sorrow, their longing, and he, at one point in a fit of agony and terror, shouted at them. Because, well, how did they think _he_ felt?

The warmth of Aziraphale appeared at the door, and Crowley spilled his tea in his scramble to stand. He twisted, mouth stretching in a watery smile.

“Angel!”

His corporation was different. Not surprising, even though Crowley had done his right best to preserve the old one. He had even tried, with book girl, to summon Aziraphale back into it. But it took time to organise the return of a favoured corporation. 

Aziraphale, just as beautiful and breathtaking, now sported dark skin, an equally round face, and fluffy, brown hair that stood on his head in perfect ringlets.

Crowley stood, struggling to wrangle with the smile flickering over his lips, and gave the angel a good eyeing. 

“Are you alright?”

Aziraphale blinked. He looked a bit glowy. A byproduct of being in Heaven. 

“Tickety boo,” he said, and rubbed his head. 

Crowley miracled the tea away, cleaning the stain off Aziraphale’s desk chair, and padded over to the angel. 

He looked down at him. 

Very far down.

“Oh.”

Aziraphale huffed, shrugged off the cold hands that had wandered up to gently fiddle with his coat, and shuffled by the demon. “Not a word.”

His curls brushed over Crowley’s chest as he ducked under a lanky arm.

Crowley struggled to hold in his laughter. “Oh my, angel.”

“ _Don’t.”_

“You’re- you’re _short_!”

He followed after Aziraphale, hand stretched out. A measuring tape had nothing on his hand and it’s ability to tell how tall Aziraphale was in comparison to his own corporation. 

Aziraphale ducked out of reach, and brandished an old chopstick that had been laying amongst Crowley’s scarcely picked at takeout.

“I’m serious, Crowley.”

Crowley, from the doorway, eyed him. “You’ve got to be- what? Five foot?”

“It’s not funny! This is the only one they had on hand. Or so they say.” He grumbled, and stabbed at a spring roll, “I just know they did it on purpose. They wanted me out as soon as possible. Called me a _traitor_ ,” he sniffed. He knew he definitely was, but name calling was still _mean._ “Gabriel asked me to grab some paperwork off the shelf and it was too high.” He picked up the spring roll properly and took a nibble. “I couldn’t reach! It was humiliating.”

Crowley didn’t dare voice that he was glad that mocking Aziraphale’s height had been the only thing they’d done.

He inched closer, held out his hand again, and quickly measured it against himself. “My chest. Ha!”

Aziraphale glared. 

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“Just because I’m-“

“Short-“

“-Below the average male height, doesn’t mean I can’t throw you out.”

Crowley propped an arm on Aziraphale’s head, and leaned casually against him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. _Get off, Crowley.”_

“It’s not too bad,” Crowley mused. He removed his arm. “You're the perfect hugging height.”

Aziraphale blushed and grumbled something.

“And the perfect height for-“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned, though he went even redder as he considered it. 

Crowley grinned. “I’d be happy to collect anything off the shelves for you.”

A chopstick poked at his stomach. “Oh, you serpent. I have ladders, you know.”

 _Old ladders,_ Crowley thought. Ones that Crowley had fallen off. It was hard, climbing things as a snake. He had been trying to reach the top shelves where the sun hit the wood deliciously. 

Aziraphale had turned, oblivious to Crowley’s musing, and was on his tiptoes as he peered into the jumbled abyss of his tea cabinet. Crowley eyed the hand that dangled by his side, and slid his own into Aziraphale’s. They were just as plump and soft. They lacked the usual manicure, but they were still very nice hands. Crowley placed a chaste kiss against a smooth palm, and rolled his eyes. The Earl Grey was at the back, just out of reach of straining, angelic fingers.

Crowley miracled it into his free hand, and tugged the other back up to his mouth. “How about I give you a proper welcoming?”

Aziraphale hummed. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, and peered up at him, lips curved into a basterdly smile. “If you insist, my dear.”

“Terrific.”

* * *

They were naked and climbing into bed when Crowley realised something.

He frowned.

“We can’t sixty nine like this.”

Aziraphale froze. He was half propped against the bed frame, in the midst of shuffling down to lay flat on his back. “What do you mean?”

“You won’t be able to reach.”

“I have arms, you know,” Aziraphale said fussily. He spread his legs, and Crowley bit his lip. 

Aziraphale was already glistening, folds dark and flushed with arousal as he squirmed under Crowley’s gaze.

“My dear-“

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Crowley shuffled forward, hooked his arms under Aziraphale’s knees and hoisted them over his shoulders.

“I missed you, you know,” he murmured, mouth muffled against the curve of Aziraphale’s thigh. He pressed a kiss into the smooth skin, and peered down at him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m dreadfully sorry. You must know I don’t blame you.”

Crowley mumbled something nonsensical.

“What was that, my- _oh.”_

The pad of Crowley’s thumb was rough over his clit. He dragged it in circles, watching half-lidded as Aziraphale arched his back, and dug his heel into the bony swath of Crowley’s back. “ _Crowley.”_

Crowley hummed. He moved his thumb down, spreading the slick that was leaking a steady trail down his thighs, and swapped his fingers for his mouth.

Aziraphale very near wailed. He clenched around a tongue that was too thin, writhing and pressing up until Crowley’s face was flush against his effort.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed, fingers tugging at the sheets, “ _please._ ”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered, like he was considering being awfully cruel and drawing it all out, but a look from Aziraphale (The Look) had him withdrawing, swapping his tongue for three fingers, delighted by the lack of resistance and the _noises_ that filled the room. He planted a kiss over the bloom of a red mark, ignoring Aziraphale’s whimper, hushing something brief before he latched his lips around his pulsing clit and _sucked._

Aziraphale clenched, babbling something nonsensical that sounded vaguely like ‘more’. Crowley, mouth stretching into a devilish grin, had to close his eyes to avoid the sudden flare of angelic light. It bustled about the room, pleasantly warm, and only died down when the afterglow of his orgasm faded. 

Crowey hummed, mouth glistening. 

“Good?”

Aziraphale squirmed. He unhooked his relatively short leg, and let it flop to the side. “Terrific.” He pouted, “but I do wish we could have at least attempted the sixties.”

“Sixty nine.”

Aziraphale shot him a desperate look.

“Well,” Crowley mused, absently stroking Aziraphale’s thigh, “I could always make my dick so huge that height wouldn’t be a problem.”

He had meant it as a joke, but Aziraphale looked oddly intrigued.

Crowley’s smile dropped. “ _Aziraphale.”_

The angel raised an innocent eyebrow. “What?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I want to pleasure you too, my dear.”

Crowley looked out the window. The curtains were closed, but it was better than being caught in Aziraphale’s eyes. They were traps. Couldn’t trust them. Couldn’t look at them without giving in. “You can still do that. Just one at a time.”

“Well. If you really don’t-“

“Look,” Crowley said, though he was doing far from that, “it’s not like I’m against the idea. It’s just-“

“What?”

“Well.” Crowley scratched his head, and finally looked back at Aziraphale. “You’re a lot smaller now.”

Brown eyes narrowed, and Crowley did his best to backtrack. “Not that I don’t think you could handle it! I’m just saying we ought to be careful. I mean, if I make it _big_ then you might not-“

“Crowley-“

“Be able to fit it comfortably and-“

“Crowley!”

“Yes?”

Aziraphale took his hand. “I may not have a jaw that can unhinge itself,” he said primly, “but I’m more than capable of sucking your dick.”

Crowley blinked. “Right.”

They ended up dallying a bit, moving over each other (getting kneed in the balls), and dithering over whether it was or wasn’t the best idea. Though, with Aziraphale on top of him, legs framing his head and his ass in his face, it was quite better than good. 

“Alright down there?”

Aziraphale pinched his thigh, “yes.”

Crowley screwed up his nose, and changed his effort with a pop of displaced magic and the odd feeling of his cock expanding.

Azidaphale hitched a breath. 

“ _Oh.”_

He squirmed, thighs squishing against Crowley’s face as he tentatively licked around the head, savouring it like it was a _lolly,_ ignoring the groans and the hand that had reached up to grip at his ass. Aziraphale hummed happily, and took the whole thing, or maybe half, in one go.

“Fuck!” Crowley jerked up, mumbling a quick apology as he gripped the sheets, heat pooling in his groin at the tight heat that swallowed half his cock. Aziraphale’s hand grasped the rest, jerking in time with the slow movements of his mouth.

Oh. Two could play that game.

He clicked his fingers.

The measured bob of Aziraphale’s head slowed.

He realised his cock with an obscene _pop._

“Crowley, what is th-ah!”

The vibrator hummed pleasantly. It was black, and Crowley watched it peak out between glistening folds. He angled it just so, revelling in the wail it drew out, and used his other hand to pat Aziraphale’s thigh.

“Too much?” He drawled.

“You’re a, _oh-_ “ Aziraphale squirmed, struggled into a sitting position, and ground down against Crowley’s stomach, “fiend!”

Crowley’s smug smile lasted all of two seconds. Aziraphale lifted himself, hands digging into the sharp incline of Crowley’s hips, and shuffled himself down until he was hovering over Crowley’s cock.

“Careful!”

Aziraphale did not take the vibrator out. It sat, vibrating merrily, against Crowley’s cock as it slid in, stretching Aziraphale’s walls obscenely. It was deliriously tight. 

Crowley arched up, whimpering when Aziraphale’s groin met his hips. 

The vibrator was unyielding. It had no room to slide up or down, barely moving with his shallow thrusts, or the intense heat that flared when Aziraphale clenched around him.

“It’s, ah, _big.”_

Crowley groaned. 

“Angel- oh fuck- m’ not going to last.”

The vibrator sped up as Aziraphale began to move. He lifted himself up, _all the way,_ lips spread wide, and dropped back down with a wail.

Crowley came with a shout, vanishing the vibrator with a thought when it became _too much._ He’d left marks over the pudgy curves of Aziraphale’s waist, scratches and bites that made another flare of heat settle amongst his stomach.

For a good, long minute, there was nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, and Aziraphale’s small whimper when Crowley’s cock began to soften.

He tugged Aziraphale down to lay across his chest. “Didn’t hurt?”

The angel sighed, eyes fluttering happily. “Quite the opposite, darling.”

Crowley grinned, and then, spying a book atop an unsteady stack of 19th century periodicals, glanced down at the small figure next to him. 

“So.”

“So?”

Crowley let his fingers wander gentle over the soft expanse of Aziraphale’s back. 

They laid in silence for a second.

“You’re a hobbit now.”

Crowey knew for a fact that Aziraphale had read those books. He remembered the complaints, the grudging compliments, and then the genuine delight at such a ‘whimsically creative world’.

Crowley bit his lip as Aziraphale considered him, face blank and his eyebrow raised. He settled back against Crowley’s chest.

“Yeah, well you’d be Wormtongue.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr: levsoligt


End file.
